Nightmare in Niceville (2 page)

I blinked and realized that I was staring at Angela. Everyone was roaring with laughter, and I knew I had missed some joke. Emily nudged me and I smiled, pretending to be in the loop. I was quiet for the rest of lunch, which was normal. Lunch was like my personal TV show, and I sat back and watched. I talked here and there, but I enjoyed listening to the funny, strange, secret, or drama-filled conversations.

The bell rang, and we all groaned that we had to go back to class.

—————

“So . . .” Emily started to say on the way to her car. “You know what this weekend is, right?”

Ugh
, I thought to myself,
please no more parties.
Most weekends, Emily would drag me to parties I didn't want to go to. Everyone would get drunk and dance and have fun, and I would sit there bored out of my mind. Or I would have to chase Emily down and make sure she didn't do anything stupid. She called me her “common sense.” Parties to me were like giant awkward moments. Everyone always acted crazy and stupid. I didn't like being out of control or putting harmful things into my body. I didn't shun people for doing it; I just didn't enjoy it like they did. Parties did have their funny moments, though. Seeing people trip or fall were some of the funniest things in the world to me as long as they didn't get hurt.

Sometimes I wondered how my life would be if Emily and I had never become friends. I would be like a less-smart version of Angela— quiet and reserved, minding my own business. I wouldn't talk to anybody, or be in any clubs, or on any team. Well, I wasn't on any teams now. I would have no sense of style, no confidence, and no one would even know my name. Emily taught me how to better match my clothes, and smile prettier, and talk louder, and love myself for who I was. The only thing that didn't rub off was wearing makeup. I was nowhere near as outgoing as Emily, but at least I could have a conversation . . . if Emily brought me into it.

Emily and I had met in the fifth grade. It was my first day of class, and some chubby-faced boy was making fun of my pink-and-brown plaid pants, which also matched my purse, shirt, and shoes. Emily's face scrunched up, and she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. She told him to shut up and poked him in the chest.

“Lily can match better than you, so I don't know why you're talking,” she had said.

“Whatever,” the boy said and walked away.

She turned around and smiled at me. I tried to return it, but I felt so embarrassed.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. She had always been a little taller than me.

“Don't worry. He's just a stupid boy,” she said.

From that day on, Emily and I were inseparable. For some reason, we clicked. Emily was my best friend, my partner in crime. We could be ourselves around each other and not care about what other people thought. We grew up together, watched movies and ate popcorn, had sleepovers, and gushed over boys and movie stars. I told her things that I never told anyone else. She was the only one who knew my deepest, darkest secrets—my greatest fears. And as we got older, our bond only grew stronger. Emily didn't have to stick up for me now, but I was still shy—extremely shy—when it came to boys.

“Well, do you know what's going on this weekend?” Emily asked.

I looked around the parking lot and watched two women speed-walking with tennis rackets in their hands. “What is it this time?” I said, laughing at the pretend glare Emily flashed me, then wiped the sweat that was beading off of my forehead.

“Everyone's going to the movies on Saturday, and we should go!” she gushed.

“Who's everybody?” I asked.

She giggled. “You sound like my mom.” She ran her fingers through her bangs. “Everybody is hopefully me and you, Sarah, Max, Rachel, Jacob . . .” She beamed when she said Jacob's name, which made me nervous because he was eighteen (Emily was only sixteen like me). I'd heard that Jacob was very cocky and controlling, but you could never be sure about rumors.

“Luke, Angela, and Scott . . .” Emily paused to gently elbow my ribs twice, then wiggled her eyebrows at me.

When she said Scott's name, my heart fluttered. I'd had a little crush on him since the fifth grade. I guess it was possible to like someone you grew up with. I didn't like that Max was going to be there. He would think I was going for him. I wasn't looking forward to Sarah either; she didn't flirt with boys, and when she smiled at me . . . it was weird.

“That sounds like fun,” I said.

“I know!” She smiled slyly. “You just want to see Scott!” she accused.

“Shhh!” I whispered urgently, looking around the parking lot. Emily laughed at my reaction. We reached her yellow MINI Cooper and hopped in.

“What movie is it?” I asked.

“I'm not sure, but I think it's a scary movie,” she said, flashing her shiny teeth. She loved horror films. I preferred comedies or romances.

“Around nine is what I heard,” she said. “I'll ask around tomorrow.”

“All right, cool,” I replied. I would talk to my mom tonight.

On the way to my house, we listened to the radio, singing along to the songs that we liked. After a minute, we switched to “our” CD— it had all of our favorite songs, which were mostly Lady Gaga albums and lots of rap songs. Lil Wayne and Nicki Minaj were our other favs.

We sped down my street, and Emily pulled up to my house. I got out of the car, shut the door, then turned back to Emily.

“Oh, can I come over after the movie?” I yelled over the music.

“Yeah, sure! I'll ask my mom just in case,” she yelled back.

“Okay! See you tomorrow bestie, love ya!”

“Bye, love you too!” she crowed through the open window. I waved and watched her drive away. As I turned and walked up to the house, I felt an eerie tingling on the back of my neck, like someone was right behind me. I spun around, prepared to scream and flee from some dark figure, but there was nothing there. I backed up slowly, then turned and sped up my lawn. I practically flew up the stairs to the porch. My heart pounded as I ripped open the front door and slammed it shut. I looked through the peephole, but saw nothing except the house across the street. After a moment, I chuckled at myself for acting so silly. That feeling was the worst. I sometimes felt that tingly feeling when I walked up the stairs at night, but why had it happened just then? It was bright and sunny outside, and I was in my driveway! I was going crazy.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Ashley! I'm home!” I called out. I let my bag slump to the floor and hung my jacket over the staircase banister.

“Hi, sweetie!” Mom called from the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Good. What about yours?” I replied.

“It was fine, thank you,” she answered.

“Lily!” Ashley, my six-year-old sister yelled as she ran to hug me.

“Hey, squirt!” I scooped her up into my arms and gave her a big bear hug, then set her down and tickled her. She laughed and tried to run away, but I snatched her up again and twirled her around, then plopped her down on a chair at the table. She stopped giggling and rambled on about her day at school.

“That sounds great, Ash,” I told her.

As my sister chit-chatted away, I walked over to where my mom was making chicken and rice with gravy. Her soft, light-brown hair fell just above her shoulders. She always looked kind and sympathetic no matter her mood. It was the way her face was built. Her eyes always glimmered, and she always smiled. Unless she was sleeping . . . it was the only time when she really frowned. When I was little, I used to try to make her smile—pulling her lips up—but she would always wake up and gently swat my hands away.

“Mom?” I asked. “Can Emily, me, and a few other kids go to the movies on Saturday?”

“Any tests coming up, room clean, chores done?” She listed off my to-dos.

“No, yes, I'll finish up tomorrow, and I have to work, but I'll be home before I have to go. I think it's at nine. Emily will tell me tomorrow.”

“Names, title, what's after . . . you know the drill.” She laughed at her small joke.

“I don't remember all the names, but Max Gareheart and Sarah Nelson are a few. I'm not sure what movie it is yet. Emily said it was supposed to be scary. I'll most likely go to Emily's house or just come home after the movie.”

“All right, sounds fine, but remember to tell me the other stuff tomorrow,” she reminded me.

“No problem. I'm going to finish my homework before dinner. Be down soon!” I said and headed upstairs.

I walked into my room and slumped onto my twin-sized bed. Kicking off my shoes, I turned on the radio and got started on my homework. The walls in my room were a pale blue. I didn't like the color, but I never got around to repainting it when we moved in. My bed was pressed against the opposite wall from my closet and bathroom. Yes, I had my own bathroom, for which I was thankful. I had a nightstand, a dresser, and a desk with my computer on it. There were some posters of bands, like Paramore, and pictures of me and Em scattered on the walls. Other than that, my room was pretty plain.

I finished up my math and history homework, which didn't take long, and headed downstairs to eat dinner with Mom and Ashley. We talked about our day, especially Ashley. She could ramble on and on about the tiniest things. Even though I couldn't always catch every detail of her long stories, I adored every second of them. After dinner, I made sure Ashley got a bath while Mom worked on some paperwork. We would play with Ashley's toys and pretend to be anything in her vast imagination. We splashed each other and laughed. Sometimes Mom would yell up at us to settle down, which made Ashley cover her mouth and giggle. After her bath, I put Ashley to bed.

“'Night, squirt!” I said, then kissed her on the cheek.

“'Night, Lily,” she said sleepily and yawned. I flicked the light off, but her Princess nightlight glowed, chasing away any shadows in the dark. Before closing the door, I took one last look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was rising and falling steadily. I gently shut the door and headed downstairs to find Mom on the couch, munching on chips while she worked. She was separating one stack of papers into two different piles. I grabbed a few chips and leaned down to hug her. She kissed my forehead and squeezed my arm softly.

“Love you, honey,” she said as she released me.

“Love you too, Mom. See you in the morning,” I replied.

“All right, sweetheart.” She turned back to her paperwork. I headed upstairs and brushed my teeth, then shuffled to my bed and picked up the recent book I was reading. It was a mystery novel, which I loved. As I read, I lost myself in the story. And before knew it, my eyes were heavy with sleep.

2

Lily

T
he alarm for school went off at six thirty, making me groan. My book was still open on my lap, and the lamp was still on. I stood and stretched, realizing that I was still wearing the clothes I had on yesterday. So much for my pajamas.

I quickly hopped into the shower and got ready for school. My morning routine never took long. I put on some mascara and a little foundation if needed, but I usually didn't need it. I didn't like bothering with makeup. I didn't know anything about putting it on, and I hated the feeling of it on my face. I partially blow-dried my hair, and then let the rest air dry. My hair was almost “perfectly naturally straight,” according to Emily, so I left it that way since it seemed to be the new style anyway. I heard Emily honk outside, so I gave my goodbye kisses and grabbed a strawberry Pop-Tart for the ride to school.

“Morning, Em!” I said as I slid into the passenger's seat and gave her a piece of my Pop-Tart.

“Morning,” she replied with a mouthful of food. “What did your mom say about the movies?”

“She said it was fine as long as I tell her the movie, the time, and where I'm going afterwards. I'm assuming your house, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I talked to my mom last night, and she said you could stay over. I'll tell you the rest later. I'm sure it's at nine, though,” Emily informed me.

She glanced over at me with a furrowed brow. “Why do you insist on wearing that frumpy jacket every day? It doesn't flatter your body shape at all,” Emily said matter-of-factly. I was used to this kind of comment from Em. I liked her tips and advice, but I also loved my comfy jackets and t-shirts. I knew she didn't mean it as an insult; she just wanted to help.

“I like this jacket because it's comfortable, thank you for asking. And body shape! What body shape? I have no
shape
to speak of.”

“Lily, I swear sometimes I could just . . . just . . . ugh! When are you going to realize that you are much prettier than you seem to think?”

“I don't think I'm ugly or anything, I'm just not as pretty as you,” I said as we pulled into the school parking lot. Niceville High was close to both of our houses, and there was hardly ever any traffic along Friendly Neighbor Street.

As we walked across the parking lot to the main entrance, Emily stared at me for a while, then spoke: “Well, you need to get more self-confidence and stop wearing that jacket,” she said, trying not to smile. Then she started laughing, and I had to laugh with her.

“I'm serious! I'll take it off of you if I have to,” she joked.

“All right, all right!” I slipped the jacket off. “If I get cold, I'm blaming you.”

“And I will take it proudly. See you at lunch, Lily,” Emily said as she walked away.

I walked to my locker and got my stuff for first-period Biology. It was my least favorite class. My schedule went in order from my least favorite to my favorite. I had Biology first, then Math, Driver's Ed., then lunch with Emily. All of my classes after lunch were with Emily. We had Spanish, History, Art, and AP Lit last. I had A's in every class except stinking Biology. To make things worse, the teacher, Mr. Willons, wasn't very nice. He had thin, gray hair and small, beady eyes, and he wore thin square glasses. One day, at the beginning of the year, I had asked him about the homework, which turned out horribly.